Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is kai a Pele, or tsunami or tidal wave.

The inspiration for today’s choice was obviously the events of this past February 27, 2010, following the oceanic surge sent throughout the Pacific Ocean by the Chilean quake. On a side note, I must say that some celebratory champagne from the night before had led me to think of something more sinister concocted by Kim Jong Il when I was awakened far too early by the sirens’ metallic screech at 5:50 in the morning. Hence, I was “relieved” to learn that the crisis at hand was actually natural.

Before I get complaints from the scientifically-inclined, I’d like to underline the difference between tsunami and a tidal wave. While tsunamis are generated by geological disturbances, the key word in the layman’s term is tidal, referring, of course, to the tides. Since tsunamis are not caused by the tides, tidal wave is discouraged as term to describe the phenomena. (At the same, tsunami literally means “harbor wave” in Japanese, so here’s to the scientific community’s selective recognition of etymology.)

Now that the digression is over, back to the ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i. Though the Hawaiian word for wave is nalu, the Hawaiian terms referring to tsunami or tidal waves found in Pukui and Elbert’s Hawaiian Dictionary use instead the word kai, or sea.

Besides kai a Pele (literally “sea of Pele”), other terms are kai e‘e (mounting sea) and the variant kai ho‘ē‘e. As a verb, ho‘ē‘e can be to rise or swell. I do recall hearing some Ni‘ihau speakers dropping the word kai and using either e‘e or ho‘ē‘e on its own to refer to the destructive wave. Interestingly enough, the Hawaiian term is closer to the actual nature of the tsunami, a swelling of the sea that surges ashore as opposed to one crashing wave. The receding of the ocean that precedes the tsunami is called kai mimiki.

Personally, I prefer kai a Pele because it refers to the wahine kapu (sacred woman) of Kīlauea herself, Pele, and her awesome powers. Not only the creator of new land, Pele also makes the earth tremble in ōla‘i, or earthquakes—the generator of the tsunami.  In the lower case, pele refers to lava and eruption. And if my understanding of Hawaiian grammar is right, the possessive a suggests that the destructive sea does not just belong to Pele but is created or generated by the goddess herself. Though the hula kahiko “Aia la ‘o Pele” refers to eruptions, I think it’s meditative inquiry “I hea kāua e la‘i ai, ‘ea?” (Where can we find peace?) is equally appropriate for kai a Pele.

Fortunately enough, the Pacific was spared from the kai a Pele this past weekend. Since I was already awake Saturday and suffering from my own ōla‘i (of notably French origin) between my temples, I jumped online to see what was occurring in French Polynesia because of the region’s closer proximity to Chile. The Gambier Islands only recorded 26 cm. The harbor in Pape‘ete, Tahiti only noted marginal rises. The minimal waves Because of their topography, the Marquesas, or Te Fenua Enata, recorded the strongest waves, measuring up to four meters at Ua Pou. On Radio Polynésie, a local resident reported seeing tourbillons, or whirlpools, form in the water. A day later, La Dépêche de Tahiti published the following photos—not exactly kai a Pele but curious enough.

Sources:

• Flickr – Clearly Ambiguous – Under Creative Commons License
• La Dépêche de Tahiti
• Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is nalu.

Nalu most commonly refers to the waves or surf of the moana, the ocean. It’s also a verb, showing the state of waves… Ke nalu nei ka moana, The ocean is full of waves.

Nalu carries more poetic, less obvious meanings, however.

In keeping with the concept of water and liquid, nalu is the amniotic fluid that surrounds and protects an unborn child.

To nalu is to mediate, ponder, contemplate. For some reason, the water imagery personally works well with this word, such as the tranquility created by the repetitive flow of waves. Or it’s the antithesis of  the idea of waves itself,  water free of waves, so calm and still that we can contemplate what is below… or a mind free of the waves of thought and mental disturbance.

All photography here used under Creative Commons license. Credits listed below:

• http://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/ / CC BY-SA 2.0
• http://www.flickr.com/photos/solsken/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
• http://www.flickr.com/photos/ameotoko/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is honua, or world, earth, or land. It may also mean fundamental.

There is a quite beautiful ʻōlelo noʻeau (traditional saying) that refers to this great earth of Kāne, the Hawaiian akua of fresh water and life.

Ka honua nui a Kāne i hōʻinana a ‘ahu kīnohinohi.

{The great Earth animated and adorned by Kāne.}

You can sense this greatness of the honua when you can gaze on a sight like the cliffs of Molokaʻi Nui a Hina above.

The creator of new land, the goddess Pele is also called ka wahine ʻai honua, the earth-eating woman.

For a word that seems to evoke such stability, honua can also mean quite the opposite. Its other meaning is suddenly or abruptly.

• Ua nalowale honua ʻo ia. She suddenly disappeared.

With all the challenges facing this honua nui a Kāne, may we all come together to protect this amazing creation.

Sources:

• Pukui, ʻŌlelo Noʻeau
• Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary.

Image used under Creative Commons license

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is one, or sand.

One kind of black sand, specifically that created from ʻaʻā lava (the rocky, slow-moving variety), is called one ʻā. The phrase can also refer to volcanic cinder as well as gunpowder.  Recounting the fiery power of Pele, the famous traditional hula “Puʻu Onioni” speaks of one ʻā in its third verse:

Lauahi Pele i kai o Puna

One ʻā kai o Malama

(Pele destroys by fire towards the sea of Puna /The black cinder seaward of Malama)

Here Kumu Hula Kawaikapuokalani Hewett performs “Puʻu Onioni” standing, maile lei in hand:

One is the base of an especially beautiful Hawaiian expression, one hānau. Literally mean “birth sands”, one hānau means birthplace or homeland, especially referring to Hawaiʻi. When I was living far away from home, the expression would always come to my mind. Hawaiʻi has been and always be my one hānau.

One hānau makes a noteworthy appearance in Rev. Lorenzo Lyons’ famous song “Hawaiʻi Aloha”, which is often sung at the end of many different gatherings and community events. However,  I find very often that, when people sing the song, the mood is usually very somber. But the lyrics are joyful, inspiring us with the love for our one hānau, our lāhui, Hawaiʻi. It’s the one song that usually gets me every time I hear it, much more so than “Hawaiʻi Ponoʻī”. Hereʻs the first verse and chorus

E Hawaiʻi, e kuʻu one hānau ē

Kuʻu home kulāiwi nei

ʻOli au i nā pono lani ou

E Hawaiʻi aloha ē

Hui

E hauʻoli nā ʻōpio o Hawaiʻi nei

ʻOli ē! ʻOli ē!

Mai nā aheahe makani e pā mai nei

Mau ke aloha, no Hawaiʻi…

(Hawaiʻi sands of my birth/ My homeland / I rejoice in the blessings from the heavens / Beloved Hawaiʻi..

CHORUS: Be happy youth of Hawaiʻi / Rejoice, rejoice! / From the breezes that are blowing / Forever is my love for Hawaiʻi)

This clip from the late Israel Kamakawiwoʻole is sure to give you the gist of it.

The above photos are used through the Creative Commons license. Credit below:

First photo information here. Second photo at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lacylouwho/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is waiūpa‘a, or cheese.

Admittedly, waiūpa‘a is not one of the first culinary words to pop in my head when I’m thinking in Hawaiian. The usual words are poke, ‘uala, or ‘awa. But waiūpa‘a became part of my vocabulary by a happy surprise when visiting Whole Foods Kāhala a few months ago. Though Hawaiian is an official language of Hawai‘i, public visual displays remain few, place and street signs asides.

So when I actually was headed into cheese section, my eye was drawn to the signage displayed beneath selections of brie, tallegio, and manchego signs, all of them annoucning “Waiūpa‘a”, complete with obligatory macron and glottal stops. It was the first time I could remember any supermarket signage being in Hawaiian. This may seems small to some, but I took it as an immediately good hō‘ailona, or sign, that our language is well on its way into the 21^st century. Just as any look at the Hawaiian newspaper archives will demonstrate, ka ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i was successfully used to discuss a whole, worldly array of people, places and things.

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is uli, a word with a rich depth of meaning.

Uli can refer to any dark color from the black of dark clouds to the blue of the deep ocean to the verdant green of cliffs. Even the dark color of a bruise, such as a black eye, can be described as uli. The reduplicated word uliuli describes color more directly.

According to the Hawaiian Dictionary, uli is sometimes avoided in poetic compositions as Uli is also the name of a goddess of sorcery. Keeping in line with the metaphysical, uli is also short ʻōuli, or omen.

However, uli is not a negative word in the end. For instance, it forms part of the name Paliuli, or Green Cliff, literally, a mythical land of joy and home of Lāʻieikawai.

In more mundane matters, uli can also refer to the act of steering a canoe or a variety of Hawaiian sweet potato.

Source:

• Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary

Please note photos above are from the links below, under the Creative Commons license.

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is ‘iwa, or the frigate bird, one of the most famed birds of Hawai‘i.

The ʻiwa appears in the kaʻi, or entrance hula, “Hoʻopuka ka lā i ka hikina” (The Sun Rises in the East”):

Haʻa mai nā ʻiwa me Hiʻiaka.

The ʻiwa dance forth with the Goddess Hiʻiaka.

Graceful in its flight,  an ‘iwa may represent an attractive or elegant person that draws the admiration of others. This attribute is captured by the ʻōlelo noʻeau (traditional saying):

Kīkaha ka ʻiwa  i ka pali.

The ʻiwa soars to the cliff.

This is the perfect kind of thing when someone good looking catches your eye while passing by.

As the ‘iwa takes the food of other birds, the word may also refer to a thief. But this kind of metaphor isn’t solely negative. Kamehameha the First was referred honorifcally as Ka’iwakīloumoku, the Frigate Bird that Hooks the Islands Together.

The word ʻiwa also reminds of the mirroring of land, sea, and air: the ʻiwa is also a species of native Hawaiian fern.

Sources:

• Kaʻiwakīloumoku Hawaiian Cultural Center
• Pukui, ʻŌlelo Noʻeau
• Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary

Please note photo above is from the link below, under the Creative Commons license.

Today’s Hawaiian word is hīhīmanu. I particularly like it because it may refer to the ocean, the land, or aestheics. The Hawaiian Dictionary tells us that hīhīmanu can translate into English as three distinctive things:

1. sting rays or eagle rays
2. elegant, lavish, magnificent
3. a peak on the island of Kaua‘i

The linguistic example that Pukui and Elbert provide is:

He nui ka hīhīmanu o kā lāua mau anaina ho‘okipa i hā‘awi ai.

They gave very lavish receptions.

Reading directly from the Hawaiian, I arrive at something a little more literary: “Great was the magnificence of the receptions that the two of them gave.”

Semantics aside, I’m in love with this word. There is a definite otherworldly beauty to the rays, which seem to fly within the oceanic realm. Now, which idea did hīhīmanu first describe, I’m not qualified to say. Were things of elegance called hīhīmanu in deference to the beauty of the underwater creatures? Or were the rays that the people of old saw swimming in the water so attractive that they were called hīhīmanu, an incarnation of the elegant?  Perhaps, a Hawaiian language scholar will let us know one day.

In any case, I think hīhīmanu is great addition to an aesthetic vocabulary. It transcends simple physical beauty and captures that special quality that immediately captures one eye just like the graceful flight of the rays behind the ocean surface. I prefer it over the other two words for elegant, ho‘ohiehie and hiluhilu, which simply refer to appearance alone. With hīhīmanu, we’re connected to beauty, ocean, and land in just four syllables. He keu o ka hīhīmanu paha kēia.

I found it unfortunate that, when searching for information about sting rays online, many sites talked about the dangerous barbs that string rays carry. But sting rays are not aggressive animals and will only attack in self-defense. Perhaps, if people could avoid sensationalism and allow the hīhīmanu live in peace, they could see their real beauty instead of seeking a threat.

To close, check out this clip on the Galapagos from the BBC to see hīhīmanu embodied.